


too loud

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Love Confessions, Not Canon Compliant, Office Sex, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Romance, Secret Relationship, not season 5 compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 00:51:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15961181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: "Someone might hear us. What if someone hears us?"





	too loud

She puts her hand over Coulson’s mouth, maybe a little too harshly, and he swallows down his next moan, instinctively dutiful, even this far gone, gaze unfixed.

“You’re too loud,” she shushes him, and smiles a bit, because all in all, _flattering_.

He flinches apologetically and Daisy likes the way her fingers fit over his chin, she thinks about painting them dark next time, for the contrast with his pale skin. It’s the kind of strange, very nont-proper-girl kind of thing she thinks about when she’s with Phil. She likes thinking about this stuff.

“So what?” he asks, surprising her, tilting his head a little so Daisy’s fingers slowly slip from his mouth to rest on his throat.

She looks around, her office the only light on in the row of rooms in this hallway.

“Someone might hear us. What if someone hears us?” Daisy says.

He makes a low noise, like a chuckle, but - well, _sexier_.

“What?” she asks.

“ _What if_ someone hears us?” Coulson repeats, brushing his lips across her mouth, teasing her. “Everybody knows already.”

“Everybody?” That can’t be right, Daisy thinks. Even if it were just a question of pride. She’s _super discreet_. And her and Coulson, they’ve been acting… okay, that one is tough because even before hooking up like this - Daisy knows it’s not just hooking up, but she likes how that sounds, _hooking up with Agent Coulson_ , it’s kind of fun - she and Coulson had always acted a bit too intensely, so she figured no one was going to be able to tell the different. “Even Joey?”

“Especially Joey, I think.”

He looks amused at her reaction.

“Hey, don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not,” Coulson protests, but he’s grinning, _close enough_.

Then he lets go of Daisy’s waist and takes a step back and Daisy misses the warmth between her legs, the pressure of his budding erection through too many layers of clothes, he’s drawing away from her.

“Sorry. Did I just kill the mood?”

He shakes his head, squeezing his fingers around Daisy’s knee. Even without looking she can always tell when he’s touching her with his prosthetic. It’s not a bad thing, just… different. She likes both, and she likes being able to tell the difference.

“No, it’s just a different mood now,” Coulson tells her as he drops to the big comfy chair in front of her desk.

He’s all comfortably splayed, legs spread, not bothering to hide his arousal, a casual look at odds with his reputation. He looks gorgeous to her, and she doesn’t care to know that’s hardly a popular opinion.

Daisy smiles. Okay, so _everybody knows_ , but do they even know what they know? Do they suspect about this?

But then Coulson fixes her a curious look.

“You’re not...bothered?” he asks.

Daisy slips down from her position sitting on the desk, finding her footing. 

“Bothered… no. Why would I be?”

“Because everybody knows that you’re… and I’m…”

He gestures with his hand, pointing at his whole body, Daisy guesses. 

“That you’re a dumbass? Yeah, I’m bothered people know about that.”

Coulson passes a hand over his mouth, trying to hide his amusement. Perhaps he’s flattered too. He shouldn’t be. Daisy is tired of meeting dudes who look perfect on the outside but are rotten on the inside.

If she thinks about it, she’s the opposite of bothered friends and subordinates know she’s with Phil. They should know he makes her happy.

She thinks there’s something important she has to tell him now, but she’s too busy missing the way his body fits against hers.

“Come here,” she asks, beckoning with a flick of her finger.

Coulson shakes his head, not moving from his chair. Daisy is a bit surprised by his refusal. 

“You come here this time,” he suggests instead.

That knocks the air out of her a bit.

“Okay,” she agrees, walking towards him, climbing on top of him.

He pulls her into a slow and dirty welcome-back kiss, as his hands explore the curve of her back.

She likes the way he grabs her ass, surprisingly dirty for the impression people normally has of Coulson.

She likes thinking about Coulson grabbing her ass.

She likes… a lot of things. Which is new. Love used to be love, liking had no room in that. When she loved someone she just loved them, it didn’t mean she necessary liked what they did for her. Love was something Daisy did, regardless of the other person.

His hands drop to rest on Daisy’s hips, the grip looser, sweeter. She pulls back and undoes her top, unhooking her bra - it’s all a bit too much 90s softcore in here, they’re only missing the music (the image _almost_ makes Daisy kill her own mood) but that’s part of the fun, too, what’s the point of office sex if it’s not a bit ridiculous, and anyway she likes the way her skin feels against Coulson’s clothes, he has such nice, soft shirts.

“You make me happy,” she tells him, bending over and kissing his earlobe. She feels him shiver. He’s ticklish and seriously how decades of SHIELD training didn’t knock that out off him is a mystery to Daisy. But she’s glad it didn’t. She likes him ticklish.

He makes a pleased sound, but she’s pretty sure he doesn’t understand what she means.

“I’ve been with people I’ve loved before,” Daisy explains, holding Coulson’s face in her hands. “But you’re the first one who’s ever made me happy.”

She feels Coulson tighten the grip on her hips at those words, and push her up, her body sliding over his. Daisy grabs the back of the chair, propping herself higher, as Coulson buries his face between her breasts.

She chuckles. Turns out she’s ticklish too.

“What are you doing?”

Coulson looks up, putting on his best innocent never-broken-a-plate boyish expression.

“Trying to make you _happier_ ,” he explains.

His teeth graze the spot right under her ribcage.

 _That_ doesn’t tickle, exactly.

It doesn’t tickle at all.

Talk about bringing back the mood.

Coulson clicks his tongue.

“Careful,” he tells her. “Someone might hear us.”


End file.
